The Distant Joke
The chandeliers in the dining room of Blackwood Hall, once a testament to the industrial wealth of my father’s generation, now hung with the brittle uncertainty of old bones, their crystal prisms catching the gaslight in fractured, jagged shards that seemed to mock the solemnity of the occasion. I stood at the head of the long mahogany table, my hands trembling slightly as I poured the vintage...
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